


oh, somebody loves you

by slytherincosette



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, F/M, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, bill denbrough is confused, eddie is a gryffindor fight me, i finally cracked and wrote an IT fic, please enjoy a self indulgent hogwarts!au, stan uris takes no shit, this shit's taken over my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherincosette/pseuds/slytherincosette
Summary: "'I already know I’ll smell Eddie’s mom,” Richie announces to no one in particular, “I’ve never met her, but we’re soulmates. I imagine she smells like lemon cleaning supplies and antacid. Very sexy.'Eddie lets his head drop onto the table."Amortentia is encountered in Potion's class and everything goes to shit. Basically a romantic comedy set at Hogwarts. Everyone is Bad At Feelings, until they're not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi thank you so much for clicking on my little story! i haven't posted any sort of fanfiction in years so please be kind and drop a comment if you feel so inclined! thank u friends pls enjoy. title belongs to betty who

A pile of books slams down on the table, missing Eddie’s muffin by centimeters. His pumpkin juice sloshes out of its cup, a few drops landing unceremoniously on the top of Eddie’s unfinished Divination paper. Stifling a sigh, Eddie glances up in time to be shoved as Richie clambers onto the bench next him. Across the table, Bev smiles behind a slice of toast.

“Good morning to the two loves of my life,” Richie says, reaching across the table to ruffle Bev’s hair. She blows a kiss at him and tosses Eddie her napkin so he can blot at his essay. 

“You better hope this dries before Divination, asshole,” Eddie mutters.

Richie throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “Fuck Divination, I already know the future. It’s you and me, baby.” He leans in and presses a wet kiss onto Eddie’s eyebrow.

Eddie shoves at him, rubbing spit away with the sleeve of his robe. “Merlin, I hope not.”

Richie reaches over and steals a piece of bacon, shoving it his mouth unceremoniously. Bev shoots him a look that Eddie can’t quite decipher, but before he can even try to unpack it, Richie’s draped back over him, howling, “Oh, you cruel boy, you have not a clue what you do to me when you reject me so…”

Eddie is mercifully saved from a full-on monologue by Bill, who announces his presence by snorting loudly and dropping down on Bev’s right. “Shut up, R-Richie. No one has time for your d-d-dramatics.” 

“And now even my best friend has turned against me? Cast me aside like some...like some...fuck, what’s something gross?” Richie asks around a mouthful of oatmeal. 

Eddie looks at him disdainfully. “You.”

Richie lets his head drops onto his stack of books with a distinct thud. Eddie makes a mental note to check him for a concussion later, when Richie stops being so unbearable to be near. “Bang, bang, my baby shot me down,” Richie sighs into the cover of his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

Bill reaches across the table to pat his head soothingly. “You’re not my best friend, Eddie is,” he says, utterly unapologetic. He grins at Eddie. Richie heaves an even louder sigh and lets out a pitiful sound.

“ _I_ love you, Rich,” Bev says, taking a sip of her morning tea, “Even if you are really fucking annoying.”

Richie’s head lifts ever so slightly, and he shoots Bev a crooked grin that makes Eddie’s stomach flip. Eddie lifts his mug to his mouth and chugs his coffee, willing his brain to wake up and stop sending dumb daydreams about Richie looking at _him_ like that to the forefront of his mind. “A girl after my own heart. Beverly Marsh, will you marry me?” Richie asks, reaching over Eddie’s plate to grab Bev’s hand.

“Of course,” Bev says lightly, squeezing Richie’s hand fondly. Eddie sets his mug down a little more forcefully than intended. Bev glances at him, brow furrowed. Eddie leans over his paper, rereading the same opening line of his conclusion three times instead of meeting her eye.

“You better hope B-Ben doesn’t find out about t-this engagement,” Bill says, nudging Bev with his elbow, “Poor kid will be crushed to know you’re off the market.” Bev rolls her eyes and pinches Bill in his side. Eddie picks up his quill and tries to finish his essay while they bicker. He goes to grab his coffee mug, but Richie nudges him gently and says, suddenly serious, “Hey, you know caffeine gives you panic attacks. I thought you were gonna cut back?”

There’s something like worry in Richie’s dark eyes, and Eddie has to look away. He always feels slightly off-balance whenever Richie switches from his usual annoying self to the kind of person that’s concerned with Eddie’s caffeine intake. Eddie knows that underneath all the bravado, Richie is kind. He wouldn’t put up with those stupid voices if Richie didn’t have some redeeming qualities. The issue is, Richie has so many redeeming qualities it makes Eddie’s head spin. It’s much easier to fight this stupid crush when he forgets that there’s anything beyond the bad jokes and the even worse impressions. “Yeah, I, uh. Just didn’t sleep too well last night. And I really need to finish this essay before this afternoon.”

Richie nods, leaning over to read the introduction. “It’s a good thesis. I don’t have class ‘til one today. If you finish it before than, I can proofread,” he offers. People always laugh at the fact that Richie is a Ravenclaw. They tend to forget that he’s the top of their class, bested in only in History of Magic by Mike Hanlon and his endless memory. Not to mention the fact that Richie takes “wit beyond measure” to a whole new level with comebacks so sharp they could slice through glass.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, Rich.”

Richie’s smile turns blinding. “Anything for you, Eds.”

Eddie takes a bite of his muffin instead of gracing that with a response. He thinks that being alone with Richie for any amount of time might actually kill him. It would be kind of ironic, because Eddie’s mom still tries to convince him to stay home every year before the start of term. Just sits him down and lists every misguided thing she thinks will lead to his early demise at Hogwarts, like it's a deathtrap and not a school. Magic is unpredictable, she’d say, and what’s unpredictable is dangerous. She’d keel over if she knew her baby boy was not only gay, but crushing on the most talented and unpredictable wizard in his year.

He finishes his muffin slowly, letting Bev and Bill absorb Richie back into their conversation. Too soon, it’s time for Eddie’s first class of the day. He has a knack for Charms (Richie says it’s because he’s so _charming_ , which, gag) so he doesn’t exactly mind having it so early, but he’d much rather be in bed right now. He and Bill heave themselves off of their respective benches, sending tired waves at Richie and Bev. Fuck Richie, Eddie thinks. He doesn’t have class until _one_. Eddie will have already sat through two classes by the time he meets up with Richie in Potions class, which. Wait.

Eddie frowns. “Rich, why the hell are you up this early if you don’t have class until one?”

Richie, for a second, looks caught off guard. He recovers so quickly that Eddie thinks he maybe imagined it. That shit-eating grin of his is in place before Eddie can even blink. “Well, Eddie my love, my day simply can’t start until I see your precious face.” He leans up to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, but Eddie swats him away and huffs. He grabs Bill’s wrist and drags him towards the entrance of the Great Hall, Richie’s laughter following after him.

-

By the time Eddie meets up with Richie in the library, he’s exhausted. They have a half hour til Potions, and Eddie is two seconds away from curling up in the stacks and avoiding the world. Richie’s leaning back in a chair, feet propped up on the table, nose buried in a book. He looks irritatingly bright-eyed for someone who’s been awake for as long as Eddie has. When he spots Eddie, his face lights up even more. “Eds, hey!” he calls, earning a pointed look and a stern shushing from Madam Pince. Richie shoots her an exaggerated wink and she rolls her eyes fondly.

“Don’t call me Eds,” Eddie says flatly, dropping down in the chair next to Richie. He rummages around in his bag until he locates his essay. 

Richie takes it from him, tongue poking out in concentration as he reads the introduction. “Oh,” he says suddenly, dropping the parchment and reaching for his own bag. He dumps out the contents unceremoniously onto the table, swatting aside crumpled up bits of parchment and dungbomb wrappers. Eddie wrinkles his nose. Richie glances over at him, grins that crooked grin, and says, “Merlin, what a cutie,” before rescuing Eddie’s essay from under his trash pile. He holds it safely above the mess and reads it while grabbing around for--well, Eddie doesn’t know what. “Ha!” Richie yells, earning him another, more forceful shush. Moments later, a pack of Cauldron Cakes lands in Eddie’s lap. 

“Are these for me?” Eddie asks. 

Richie ducks his head and runs a hand through his messy curls, leans back even further in his chair. “Yeah, I figured you could use a pick-me-up before we have to go deal with whatever crock of shit Slughorn’s cooked up today.”

Eddie feels a smile tug at his lips. “If I get a cavity because of all the sweets you feed me, my mum’s gonna kill me.” Nevertheless, he tears into the the pack of Cauldron Cakes like they’ll disappear if he blinks. At home, his mum never lets him have sugar. He _might_ go a little overboard when he’s at school, but it’s mostly Richie’s fault. He’s been splitting his candy bars in half to share with Eddie since first year. 

Richie glances up from Eddie’s essay and grins, crooked. Eddie’s stomach flips. “You give me a cavity just by looking at ya, baby.” He pauses, adds, “A cavity is a little hole in your tooth, right? S’what Dentists fix, yeah?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, Rich.”

“Sick,” Richie says, looking proud that he remembered another fact about the muggle world. When Eddie first made the mistake of telling Richie what a Dentist was, Richie had been horrified at the fact that muggles put _drills_ in their _mouths_. Richie, a pureblood, had always just rinsed his teeth with whatever potion was needed to keep them healthy and intact. For about a week afterwards, he had gone around exclaiming to anyone who would listen (and some who wouldn’t) that muggles were _metal as fuck_. 

Eddie shifts in his seat, watching Richie read. “Hey, uh,” Eddie says, “Thanks. For reading over my essay and for the cakes.”

“Not a problem, little spaghetti head,” Richie says, and before Eddie can protest that horrible nickname, Stan appears, looking perfectly put together as always. “Stanley the manly! Lookin’ sharp, mate!”

The corner of Stan’s mouth quirks up. “Thanks, Richie.” He glances at the trash on the table and his expression turns disdainful. Turning to Eddie, he says, “Seems like it was your turn to watch him, yet he still made a gigantic mess. You’re getting too lenient, Eddie.”

Eddie sighs mournfully. He side-eyes the mess and says, sadly, “He distracted me with Cauldron Cakes. I’m weak.”

“Weak at the knees for Richie Tozier, that’s for sure,” Richie exclaims, holding a hand up for Stan to high five. Stan stares at the offered hand until Richie gives up and lowers it.

“It’s weak _in_ the knees,” Stan corrects, at the same time Eddie yells, “I am not!”

“Mr. Kaspbrak!” Madam Pince hisses from the front desk, eyes narrowed. 

Stan rolls his eyes. “Let’s go, or we’ll be late for Potions.”

Richie sweeps an arm over the table, dumping all of the trash back into his bag instead of throwing it out like a functioning human might. “Being late for Potions sounds a lot better than going to Potions,” Richie grumbles, and Eddie has to agree. “Here, Eds,” he adds, holding out Eddie’s essay, “It was perfect as always, I don’t know why you were freaking out. You’re crazy smart, mate.”

With that, he stands up and follows Stan out of the library, confident as always that Eddie will follow. Eddie feels his face flush. He glances down at the parchment, noting that Richie has drawn a heart above the ‘i’ in Eddie’s name. “Cool,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, “Cool. Get it together, you idiot. It’s Richie, for fuck’s sake.”

“Eds?”

“Coming,” Eddie calls, shooting one last apologetic look in Madam Pince’s direction before hurrying out of the library.

-

“Today,” Slughorn announces grandly, arms held out, “we will be learning about something I believe you will all find quite entertaining.”

He says some variation of this greeting every day, and he’s usually incorrect. Eddie hates Potions. Mostly, Eddie is _bad_ at Potions, and Eddie hates anything he isn’t immediately good at. Richie is, of course, fantastic at it, which is why Eddie always sits next to him during lessons. He likes when his potion doesn’t blow up in his face, which it will inevitably do if he doesn’t work with someone good enough at Potions to cancel out how bad Eddie is. Today, though, Eddie is sitting next to Stan. Richie chose to sit in between Mike and Bill. Which is...fine, he guesses. Weird, but fine. Eddie’s fine. Richie can sit with other people if he wants. 

Stan has already began his notes for the day, a header placed perfectly in the center exactly one inch below the top of the parchment. Most days, Eddie wishes he could be more like Stan. He hopes that, one day, he will be half as put together at Stan is. For now, he’s just glad Stan lets him copy his notes.

From two tables over, Richie catches Eddie’s eye and starts making faces. Eddie has to bite his lip to keep from smiling, and he almost misses Slughorn’s announcement.

“...learning about Amortentia! In fact, I happen to have a vial right here…”

Richie raises his hand and speaks before being called on, as usual. “Toss some of that over here, sir, I have some dames to woo.”

Slughorn chuckles. He’s the only professor that finds Richie even vaguely amusing. “Now, now, Mr. Tozier, that’s hardly appropriate. However, I will be passing this vile around so you can each get a whiff of your true love! Amortentia smells of whatever attracts you, so it will be different for each of you. You may share, or you may keep this knowledge to yourself.”

Eddie is immediately unenthusiastic. Stan, however, perks up and glances over at Bill. Eddie nudges him in the side lightly. “What do you think you’ll smell?” he asks, tone teasing.

“I have no idea,” Stan says flatly, sending Eddie one his patent side-eyes, “What do you think _you'll_ smell?” Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it. He decides to forgo answering altogether and instead hums quietly. “That’s what I thought,” Stan mutters. Eddie huffs a laugh.

“I already know I’ll smell Eddie’s mom,” Richie announces to no one in particular, “I’ve never met her, but we’re soulmates. I imagine she smells like lemon cleaning supplies and antacid. Very sexy.”

Eddie lets his head drop onto the table. He hears a smack, followed by Richie yelping. Eddie silently thanks either Bill or Mike for their service. Probably Bill. Mike’s too nice.

“Be careful not to spill a drop of this as you pass it around the class, and do not, I repeat, _do not_ , drink it,” Slughorn’s voice raises slightly. Students have already started whispering to each other, giggling and wondering aloud what their soulmate smells like. Slughorn hands the vial to Betty Ripsom, a spunky Gryffindor who gives Richie a run for his money. “Would you like to share, Miss Ripsom?”

Betty takes a deep breath, nose close to the opening of the vial. “Yeah, sure,” she says, easily, “Smells...smokey, like someone just put out a fire. Kind of fruity as well? Like an apple orchard.”

The potion makes its way around the room, passing from student to student. Eddie props his head up with his fists, eyebrows furrowed. He is suddenly very glad he’s not sitting next to Richie. Beside him, Stan starts to fidget. Eddie reaches over and lightly touches his arm.

The vial is placed in front of Bill by Audra Phillips, a Gryffindor as beautiful as she is kind. Their hands brush and Bill smiles, charming in a way that makes Eddie want to vomit. Audra blushes as red as her tie. Eddie catches Stan’s eye and they share a flat look. “I wish they’d just date already,” Stan says stiffly, fingers tapping impatiently against the wood of their desk.

“No you don’t,” Eddie says, mildly.

“I wonder what Richie will smell,” Stan replies, shooting Eddie a sideways glance.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says. When he glances back, Stan is smirking. Asshole.

They both fall silent and watch Bill hold the vial up to his nose and inhale deeply. For a moment, he sighs, sounding content. Richie’s grinning at him, ready to open his mouth and say something stupid and sexual, but before he can, Bill’s eyes snap open. He looks confused. He glances from the vial, to Audra, and back. Suddenly, Bill’s shoulders go very stiff. 

He passes the vial so aggressively that Richie, ever the picture of grace, nearly drops it. Mike leans behind Richie and grabs at Bill’s elbow, brows furrowed. 

“What the hell?” Stan murmurs. He squints at the back of Bill’s head. 

Eddie ignores him, zeroing in on Richie’s back. His curly head is hunched over the vial, sniffing cautiously like it might blow up in his face if he gets too close. He sighs, somewhere between exasperated and relieved, and Eddie hears him whisper, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Language, Mr. Tozier,” Slughorn says calmly, stopping in front of their desk. He glances down at Bill and adds, “Mr. Denbrough, are you alright? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“M’fine,” Bill mumbles, and he lowers his head onto his crossed arms. 

Slughorn raises an eyebrow but leaves him be. Turning back to Richie, he asks, “Would you care to share, Mr. Tozier?”

And Richie, who has never kept his mouth shut once in his goddamn life, shakes his head silently. 

Slughorn plucks the vial out of Richie’s hand and gives it to Mike, who is glancing warily at his now catatonic friends. Mike sniffs cautiously. After a moment, he lets out a contented sigh. His relief is palpable. “Smells amazing,” he says dreamily, distracting Slughorn from where he is hovering over Richie and Bill. “Like springtime.”

“Wonderful, Mr. Hanlon!” Slughorn says, smiling brilliantly. Mike hands it to the girl behind him, and Slughorn goes over to his own desk. He procures another small vial from one of his drawers and promptly shoves it at Stan, adding, “Let’s move this process along, shall we? Another vial to pass the other way. Go on, Mr. Uris. Take a whiff.”

Stan gives the vial a withering look. “Must I, Professor?” he asks, eyebrows raised and mouth pulled down in distaste. 

For a moment, Slughorn looks thrown. This is obviously not how he expected his lesson to go. Eddie decides to throw the man a bone and elbows Stan roughly in the ribs. “Just do it, Stanley,” he hisses, sending wide, innocent eyes Slughorn’s way.

Stan huffs. “Fine.” Carefully, he uncorks the vial and lifts it up to his nose. Eddie lets his eyes wander over to Richie’s table. Richie has his eyes glued to the floor. Bill, however, catches Eddie’s eye and stares back. Eddie tilts his head, a silent “Are you okay?” Bill shakes his head once. His eyes drift past Eddie and land on Stan, who takes a deep breath in. 

“How does it smell, Mr. Uris?” Slughorn asks.

“Good,” Stan says flatly, and he hands it abruptly to Eddie.

Eddie fumbles with it for a moment before offering Slughorn an apologetic smile. Around the room, students are chattering excitedly as the other vial is passed around. They are oblivious to Eddie’s internal turmoil. If he smells Richie, that means this...crush, or whatever, is more than just a crush. It means Eddie can’t just ignore it. It means he’ll have to actively go out of his way to deal with his problems, which Eddie does not want to do. But he guesses that if Stan can be brave and suck it up, so can he. 

Eddie stares at the potion for a moment, before biting the bullet and inhaling deeply. Immediately, it’s Richie. Then again, it’s always been Richie, ever since they were first years. Eddie’s never had eyes for anyone else. It smells like an afternoon out on the grounds, hands almost but not quite brushing. The chocolate of their shared Cauldron cakes, the smoke from Richie’s cigarette, the damp earth beneath them. It smells like coming home.

Eddie immediately wants to throw up. 

His lungs tighten up with the asthma that he doesn’t have. Blindly, he grabs for Stan’s hand. Immediately, Stan’s fingers are interlocking with Eddie’s, a strong and steadying anchor. They look at each other, and share a look of mutual understanding; they are both utterly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your incredibly kind comments, i love each and every one of you!! come say hi to me on tumblr at slytherincosette (gotta keep my Brand strong, ya know). please enjoy another chapter of these idiots flailing around uselessly.
> 
> tw for vague mentions of stan's OCD. sorry if it's not portrayed the way you would portray it, i can only go off my own experience with my own OCD!!

Eddie doesn’t let go of Stan’s hand until the end of the lesson; he can barely concentrate past the buzzing in his head. When Slughorn dismisses them, they are the first to stand up, duck their heads in tandem, and hurry out the door. The dungeons are cold without the heat from the fire in the Potions classroom, but it helps to clear his head.

“They’ll be out any second, we have to go,” Stan murmurs, promptly yanking Eddie up the nearest staircase. 

“We can’t just avoid them,” Eddie protests, even though his fight or flight reflexes have been activated to the fullest extent and his entire body is screaming _run_.

“Yes, we can,” Stan says firmly, and Eddie lets himself be pulled.

They end up somewhere on the third floor, just outside the armory. Stan presses against the stone, looking back and forth until he’s satisfied that the corridor is empty. They stare at each other for a few moments. Eddie taps out an erratic beat against his leg, unable to be still.

“What did you smell?” Eddie asks abruptly, because he’s never been great at awkward silences. 

“Bill,” Stan replies simply. “You?”

Eddie huffs out a breath. “Richie.”

“Great,” Stan says.

Eddie stares past him, counting the stones in the wall. “Are you sure it was Bill?”

Stan blows a curl out of his face, looking annoyed. “Yes. It was like he was right next to me and the breeze hit the right way and...yes. I could pick it out anywhere. A little bit of mint, a LOT of Sleekeazy’s, and that muggle deodorant that Richie says makes his smell like a douchebag.” He smirks and laughs quietly for a moment, before it fades and he’s left looking a little lost. 

Eddie glances around, helpless. “So, uh...what do we do?”

After a long pauses, Stan says, “We ignore this whole thing and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Eddie frowns. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“You’ve been avoiding dealing with your crush on Richie for three years--”

“It hasn’t been _three years_ , okay, it’s been like…”

Stan holds up a hand and Eddie falls silent. “Eddie, it’s been three years. Three long, _baffling_ years of watching you moon over someone who thinks making walrus teeth out of french fries is the pinnacle of humor.” 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie mumbles, crossing his arms, “Bill still writes his name in all of his underwear. His favorite singer is Cyndi Lauper, unironically. Do you know what a vape is? Because Bill found a way to charm one and he keeps it under his pillow--”

“Okay, we both have horrible taste,” Stan interrupts, a small and fond smile playing on his lips. Eddie is vaguely disgusted. “Listen, okay, this doesn’t change anything. At least, it doesn’t have to. Everything is essentially the same. We’re still into horrible straight boys who probably won’t ever like us back.”

Eddie sighs, scratches at the back of his head. “So we just ignore it?”

Stan nods definitively. “We ignore it.”

“This is going to blow up in my face,” Eddie says miserably. 

-

When Eddie finally makes it back to the Gryffindor dormitory, after twenty extra minutes of wandering aimlessly around the castle, Bill is lying face down on the floor. 

“Um,” Eddie says.

“Leave m-muh-me here to d-die,” Bill says.

Eddie steps over him and heads to his bed, pulling back the curtains of his four poster. He settles down on the edge and says, “No.” He’s a little annoyed because _he's_ the one that’s supposed to be having an existential crisis here. 

Suddenly, Bill rolls over. He squints at Eddie accusingly. “Are yuh-you and S-S-Stan dating?”

Eddie definitely wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

“You were h-holding h-hands with him for the huh-whole class ah-after you got ahold of the Amortentia,” Bill says miserably. He looks at the ceiling and sighs heavily. “You suh-suh-smelled him, didn’t you?”

Eddie can’t help himself; he laughs. Bill pushes himself up into a sitting position, looking affronted. “No,” Eddie says, incredulous. He laughs again, a short, unhappy thing, and says, “No, I did not smell anything to do with _Stanley_.”

“D-do you promise?” Bill asks, sounding pitiful. 

Eddie smiles ruefully. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Bill seems to consider this for a moment. Then, he launches himself off of the floor and onto his own bed. He sits, facing Eddie, hands clasped in his lap. Confident, impenetrable Bill looks as lost as he did when Eddie first met him, barely able to stutter through a hello. “I did,” he says, quietly.

Eddie frowns. “You did what?”

Bill takes a deep breath. “I-I-I-I s-suh-suh-suh... _fuck_.”

Eddie reaches forward quickly and grabs both of Bill’s hands in his own. “It’s okay, take your time,” he says gently. Bill’s face is red with the effort of trying to speak. Eddie hasn’t seen him this worked up in years--his stutter has improved vastly, and although he still has it, it’s not nearly as bad at it was when they first met. Bill has grown a thick skin and the kind of charm that makes girls fall at his feet, stutter or no. He’s the most easy going guy Eddie knows; he lets most of his problems roll off his back and handles them with the kind of grace Eddie, an anxious mess, could only dream of. But now, Bill is clutching to Eddie like a lifeline, his head bowed in defeat. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with this Bill. “Take a deep breath for me, Bill, okay? Take your time. It’s okay.”

Eddie squeezes Bill’s hands reassuringly and waits until Bill meets his eyes. They sit there for what feels like forever until Bill says, quietly, “I...I smelled Stan.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Bill agrees. 

This is the weirdest fucking day of Eddie’s life. 

“Is that why you were so weird in class?”

“Yeah, I...I thought I would s-smell Audra, you know? We’ve been dancing around each other for a few months and she was f-f-flirting even _harder_ after she smelled the p-p-potion and I figured it meant she smelled muh-me and like, she p-probably did, right? But I smelled Stan, I smelled...I smelled fresh p-parchment and ink, y’know the way it suh-suh-smudges on his fingers after he writes an essay? And...and I smelled l-lavender and vanilla, because he uses that vanilla soap when he washes his hands so muh-much, it has to be the vanilla soap and then he uses the lavender h-huh-hand lotion because it’s a cuh-cuh-cuh-calming scent and because his hands get so dry because he has to w-wash them so often and…” Bill looks helplessly at Eddie, “I smelled Stan.”

They stare at each other for what feels like forever, but is probably only a minute.

Eddie clears his throat. “You seem to pay...really close attention to Stan.”

“Yeah, of course I do, he’s m-my f-friend,” Bill says, eyebrows knitted together. God, he’s daft.

“Bill,” Eddie says gently, “What kind of lotion do I use?”

“I d-don’t know,” Bill says immediately, “Why wuh-would I know that?”

Eddie waits a beat.

“Oh,” Bill says quietly.

“And we’ve literally lived together for six years now,” Eddie says, not unkindly. 

Bill’s eyes go wide in abject horror. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and flops back on his bed. “I like Stan.” he whispers, “Holy sh-sh-shit, I like Stan.”

Eddie has no idea what to do with this information. He could end this right now and tell Bill that Stan likes him back, but that feels like a betrayal of Stan’s trust. He could leave and run to Stan, tell him that Bill likes him, but _that_ feels like a betrayal of _Bill's_ trust. Instead of either of those options, Eddie chooses the path of least resistance and says, gently, “I think you should talk to Stan.”

“Absolutely n-not,” Bill says, sitting up abruptly. Eddie worries vaguely about whiplash. “It would ruin our friendship. I sh-shouldn’t even be t-telling you this, but I h-had to know if you were d-d-dating.” He looks a little sick at the idea. “Richie said--”

“What did Richie say?” Eddie asks, exasperation and dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“R-Richie said that, s-since Stan’s not usually, you know, ah-ah-affectionate, that you were either having a panic a-attack or y-y-you smelled e-each other,” Bill says, and then pauses. “It’s w-weird s-saying that, right? Th-that you smelled someone?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah. It does sound really fucking weird.”

Bill lets out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. He looks down at his feet and lets his smile drop into something bittersweet and sad. “So you did have a p-p-panic attack, then?”

“I, uh. I started to,” Eddie admits, and he immediately wants to smack himself. 

Bill’s eyes meet his, concerned and brotherly in a way that makes Eddie immediately guilty for knowing what he knows and not using it to reassure Bill. “Why?”

“I wasn’t expecting what I was going to smell,” Eddie answers honestly, because he feels like he owes Bill that, at the very least. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he adds quickly, before Bill can ask any incriminating questions.

There’s a pause, and then Bill says, “Okay.”

Eddie sighs, relieved. “Thank you, Bill.” He clears his throat. “I have to go hand in my essay before dinner, I’ll, uh...meet you in the Great Hall later?”

Bill nods. “Yeah, Eddie, sh-sh-sure. I’ll see you l-later.”

Eddie nods back, and then hightails it out of the sixth year boy’s dormitory. He takes the stairs two at a time, nearly running over a rather distraught looking Audra Phillips. When he makes it past the portrait, he finally lets himself breathe.

-

Eddie walks towards the Great Hall with lead feet, dragging every step. He doesn’t want to face Richie, he doesn’t want to have to lie to both Bill and Stan, and he barely even has an appetite anyway. Dinner sounds positively nauseating. But if he doesn’t go, Bill will get all _concerned_ and ask him _questions_ , and Richie will mix dumb jokes with ill-concealed worry, and Ben will try to hug him, and if anyone even _looks_ like they’re about to hug him, Eddie will burst into tears.

His stress is only amplified by the fact that he still doesn’t know what Richie smelled, or why he reacted the way he did. Anything that leaves Richie Tozier speechless is dangerous. Eddie doesn’t like missing variables. He likes to have all the information possible when entering into unchartered territory. With Richie, that’s never quite been possible; there’s always some unknown thing that keeps him guessing and fucks him up. Richie always manages to surprise him.

Eddie hates surprises.

Eddie keeps his head down as he walks into the Great Hall. Everything is instantly overwhelming, from the smell of the food to the loud voices of his peers. He makes it approximately two feet past the door before a shrill voice is yelling, “Eddie!”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He pastes on a fake smile and says, in what he hopes is a cheery tone, “Hi, Myra.”

Myra Bolinski is three inches shorter than Eddie, three times his weight, and the most annoying human being Eddie has ever encountered. She also has a massive crush on him, even after repeatedly being told by him and just about everyone else at Hogwarts that he is very, very gay.

“Hi, Eddie,” she says, smiling sweetly. She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and leans forward on her tiptoes. Eddie takes a deliberate step back.

Eddie doesn’t _hate_ her, but she has made one too many homophobic remarks regarding his “confusion” for him to actually like her. “I’m just on my way to dinner to, you know, eat,” he says, pointedly moving to the side to walk around her. Farther down the long table, Eddie can see his friends all sitting together. Ben and Beverly are holding hands, which...that’s new. Not exactly surprising, but new. 

“Maybe we could sit together,” Myra suggests, and two of her fingers run playfully up Eddie’s arm. He jumps, pulling away like he’s been burned. Myra doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“Uh, no, I don’t think that’s--”

“Do you know what I smelled in the Amortentia today, Eddie?” she asks in a voice she that probably thinks is seductive, but just makes Eddie’s skin crawl.

“No, and I don’t really care, to be completely honest,” Eddie says, snippy and ready to bolt. He tries to be nice, he really does, but she’s just so… _Myra_.

Myra pouts at him. “I smelled you, Eddie, love,” she says, eyes bright, “Sweets and antiseptic. Oh, Eddie, it smelled like _fate_ \--”

“I’m gay,” Eddie reminds her, suppressing an eye roll.

“No, love, you’re just confused,” she purrs, and just as she takes a step forward, there’s an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and a warm body pressed at his side.

“Hiya, Bolinski,” Richie says, smile too wide to be genuine. There’s something nasty in his eyes and his grip tightens around Eddie. “Bothering my Eds, are ya? Seems to be pretty much all that you do.”

Myra’s whole demeanour changes. Her eyes narrow into little slits as she says, coldly, “Tozier. Don’t you have someone else’s business to butt into?”

“See, when you bother my little spaghetti squash like this, it _becomes_ my business. He gets all upset because being around you kind of sucks, and I don’t like when he’s upset. So why don’t you run along and go squeal in someone else’s ear, before I hex you into next week.” Richie makes a shooing motion with his free hand and pulls Eddie around Myra.

She lets out an indignant like screech and stomps out of the Great Hall, dinner apparently forgotten. “Merlin,” Richie mutters, dragging Eddie down to their friends. Eddie is getting dragged a lot of places today. Richie’s arm is still around his shoulder, but now it’s casual, like how Eddie sees couples walk in the hallway. “That bird is bathshit. When is she gonna get the hint?”

“She’ll be apparating to my front porch until the day she dies, probably,” Eddie says miserably. “Thanks for saving me,” he adds, trying to concentrate on literally anything but the weight of Richie’s arm on his shoulder and the ridiculous height difference between the two, how Eddie fits perfectly against Richie.

Richie looks down at him and grins. Out of nowhere, he smacks a loud, wet kiss to Eddie’s forehead and says, “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

Eddie shoves him away and laughs because he can’t help himself. Richie, for all intents and purposes, seems to be back to normal after his quiet meltdown in Potions. Eddie doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. Richie also doesn’t ask about Stan, which means Bill’s already gotten to him. Thank Merlin, because Eddie really doesn’t stammer through a half-assed lie about a panic attack he almost had that was literally because of Richie.

He slides into his usual seat between Richie and Mike. Stan is directly across from him, sipping water and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. For someone who is convinced that ignoring the problem will solve everything, he’s sure doing a shit job of _acting normal_. Richie leans close to Eddie and whispers, “He’s been doing nothing but laying on his bed and listening to Air Supply on an old Muggle record player all afternoon. What did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Eddie hisses back, and then kicks Stan under the table. Stan startles, spilling half of his water down the front of his jumper. This causes all of their friend’s attention to turn to Stan, who glares at Eddie like he’s trying to turn him to stone.

“Are you okay, mate?” Mike asks, passing him his napkin. “You’re bein’ awfully quiet.”

Stan takes the napkin gratefully and dabs at his shirt, frowning. “Yes, thank you. I’m fine,” he says, and he sends a sharp kick back at Eddie. 

“Ow,” Eddie yelps, before immediately snapping his mouth shut.

Mike frowns. “Are _you_ alright, Eddie?”

Eddie can feel Richie’s eyes on him. “I’m great, actually,” he says, forcing a smile onto his face, “because it looks like Ben and Bev finally got their heads out of their asses and got together. What the hell happened?”

It’s a cheap diversion tactic, but it works. Also, Eddie’s just really happy for his friends and really curious as to what changed since he saw Bev this morning and Ben in Arithmancy. Everyone immediately turns on Ben and Bev, who look pleased and sheepish. “Well. y’know,” Ben says, “We have Potions together, right before you lot do. We walked in together, and Slughorn was brewing something that smelled amazing--”

“And I asked, rather loudly, if Ben had dropped a whole bottle of his cologne into it,” Bev adds, shrugging her shoulders, “Turns out, it was just the Amortentia, and I bloody well embarrassed myself in front of half our year.”

Of fucking course its the Amortentia. Eddie can’t get away from it. He feels his smile turn stale and quickly stuffs a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. 

“Guess it’s a good thing you never fuckin’ think before you talk,” Richie laughs, and Bev throws a pea at him.

Bill is smiling softly, and a little sadly, at the two of them. “Th-that’s amazing, guys. I-I’m s-so happy yuh-yuh-you finally f-figured it out. W-we were just talking ah-about it this m-morning, weren’t we, B-Bev?”

Bev laughs, carefree and happy. It’s a beautiful sound. “Oh Merlin, you’re right. And I was going on about how I missed my chance, now that Ben’s a starting Beater for the Hufflepuff team, because all of the beautiful girls at Hogwarts would finally see what I saw,” Bev says, turning to Ben. He snakes an arm around her shoulder, loose and comfortable, and presses a kiss to her forehead. They look like how Eddie imagines he and Richie did, except they’re real. The affection, the kiss. It’s real. 

“You’re the _most_ beautiful girl, and the only one I’ve ever had eyes for,” Ben says softly, and Bev presses their foreheads together.

Eddie shoves another spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth and forces it down. Beside him, Richie snorts loudly. “Listen, I know you have lost time to make up for, but try not to be so fucking gross in front of us lonely singles.”

Across the table, Stan snorts. Bill glances at him in surprise. Their eyes meet, for just a second, and Bill opens his mouth to speak--

“Stanley!”

A blur of black and gold latches itself around Stan’s neck. Stan stiffens, realizes who is clinging to him, and immediately hugs back. “Georgie! Hi, bud, what’s up!” Stan’s face lights up and he pulls Georgie down onto the bench next to him. George’s head immediately falls onto Stan’s shoulder.

“Richie helped me with Astronomy and now I have 48 different stars memorized.” Georgie clutches onto Stan like a lifeline.

“That’s amazing,” Stan says, ruffling his hair fondly. Stan is not an affectionate person by nature; getting a hug from him is like pulling teeth. Georgie has always been the exception. Ever since their friend group invaded the Denbrough house the summer after Second Year, Georgie attached himself to Stan and never let go. Now that Georgie is a First Year, he is near constant presence at Stan’s side. Eddie has to admit that it's kind of adorable. “48 whole stars? Merlin, you must be the smartest kid in your year.”

Bill’s watching them with a strange expression on his face. In fact, he looks a little constipated. How the idiot didn’t know he was bonkers for Stan earlier than two hours ago is beyond Eddie.

“Billy didn’t want to hear me recite all of them,” Georgie pouts, shooting an accusing look at Bill. 

“Well, BILLY,” Stan pauses to shoot Bill a wicked grin. Bill turns bright red, but holds his gaze, “doesn’t know talent when he sees it. I would love to hear it after dinner.”

“I wish you were my brother,” Georgie sighs, and Bill chokes.

Richie snorts. “He might be, one day.” Immediately, his eyes go wide and his mouth snaps shut. “Fuck. Did I say that out loud?”

Stan’s head snaps toward Eddie, a murderous look on his face. “You told Richie. Fuck, _of course_ you told Richie.”

Eddie slams his spoon down. “What do you mean _of course_ I told Richie? I didn’t tell Richie _anything_ \--”

“Tell Richie what?” Richie asks, as Bill yells, “Merlin, you c-can’t keep your f-fucking tr-tr-trash mouth closed for _t-two seconds_ \--”

“I think we’re missing something,” Ben stage-whispers to Mike, who nods slowly. Bev rolls her eyes and shoves a bread roll in her mouth.

“I can’t _believe_ , Eddie--”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Georgie, very slowly, slides off of the bench and slinks away back to the Hufflepuff table. 

“You’re the f-fucking worst, Rich, I suh-suh-swear to G-G-God,” Bill cuts himself off and closes his eyes, “Wait, w-wait...why are _you_ angry?” He asks Stan, who is red in the face and in the middle of cutting Eddie a new one, which he doesn’t _deserve_ , okay?

Stan takes a shuddering breath, says, “I told Eddie that in confidence and he _obviously_ told Richie--”

“I haven’t talked to him since you two ran like bats out of hell from the Potions room! What are you even talking about, Stanley?” Richie argues, putting a protective hand on Eddie’s knee that Eddie tries not to think too hard about.

“I had plenty of opportunities to tell _Bill_ , but I didn’t, because I’m not a dick, Uris! I _definitely_ didn’t tell Richie, why the _fuck_ would I do that?” Eddie yells, “Bill probably told Richie--”

Bill makes a choked noise, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, before taking a deep breath. “You both smelled each other in the Amortentia, okay? You both have massive fucking crushes on each other. Now go fucking deal with it like adults and stop screaming at me!”

The table is silent. Bev glances between Bill and Stan, eyes glittering with good humor and interest. Stan’s mouth clamps shut, while next to him, Bill gapes like a fish. Slowly, painfully slowly, their eyes meet. “R-really?” Bill asks, faintly.

Stan manages a terse nod.

All of the tension visibly disappears from Bill’s frame. “Oh, thank Merlin,” he breathes out, and then he and Stan are kissing.

Ben, bless him, starts to clap. Bev shushes him quickly, grabbing his hands in hers. Mike is positively beaming, face about to split open. Richie has gone silent, eyes trained on his plate. His hand has slipped off of Eddie’s knee and Eddie feels suddenly lost, without a tether.

When Bill and Stan finally break apart, they’re bright red and visibly dazed. “Are you sure?” Stan murmurs, face still very close to Bill’s.

Bill reaches down and grabs his hand, eyes never leaving Stan’s. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he says, earnest and honest as ever. 

“Cool,” Stan says faintly.

Richie stands up abruptly. “Well, I feel like I just watched an insanely private moment that I shouldn’t have,” he says, brightly, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Cheers to the newlyweds, glad my massive fuck up could result in something beautiful.”

With that, he marches off, laughing a little hysterically. Eddie suddenly feels terribly, horribly alone.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Bill goes to bed with the dopiest smile on his face. Eddie doesn’t fall asleep at all. He pulls the curtains of his four poster, sealing himself into his own pity party. It’s not that he’s not happy for Bill and Stan--he _is_ , but that doesn’t mean Eddie can’t wallow a little bit that _he_ didn’t get a perfect fairy tale ending.

After dinner, he’d gone looking for Richie. He wanted to ask what his outburst meant, if he was okay, if he wanted to talk, but Richie had essentially vanished. He’d even sent Mike into the Ravenclaw common room to do a thorough searching, but that had turned up empty. As a Prefect, Mike had unlimited access to each and every dorm in Ravenclaw tower, but no one seemed to be harboring Richie under their beds or in their trunks.

“Sorry, mate,” Mike had said, clapping a hand to Eddie’s shoulder. “He seemed a bit off all day, after Potions. But Stan was…”

“Having a complete mental breakdown?” 

Mike had huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, basically. I told Richie we’d talk later, after we got Stan to unstick his curtains and act like a human, but then dinner happened, and well...now he’s gone.” A second of silence had passed between the two of them, before Mike had brightened up and added, “Maybe he’s taking a walk.”

Eddie had frowned. “It’s February.” 

Mike laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first stupid thing Richie’s done.”

“Feels like a lot has happened today,” Eddie had said, feeling worn out. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to the dorms tonight somehow,” Mike had assured him, squeezing Eddie’s arm gently. “Just get some sleep.”

Eddie has not taken Mike’s advice.

Not for lack of trying, though. He’s mentally and physically exhausted, can barely keep his eyes open, but his brain is going a mile a minute. From a bed over, Bill is snoring loudly. Eddie wonders how mad Stan would be if Eddie smothered his new boyfriend with a pillow. 

Eddie rolls over, pulls his duvet up over his head. It gets to Eddie, sometimes, being Bill Denbrough’s best friend. The Golden Boy of Gryffindor. Everything comes easily to Bill, including, apparently, his love life. He realized he had a crush, went into existential crisis mode for roughly three hours, and then everything was immediately alright! Solved with a kiss, thanks to _Eddie_ , no less. Merlin knows those two idiots would have never figured it out and that would have been painful to watch.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s had a ridiculous, stupid crush on Richie Tozier for years now, and has gotten approximately nowhere with it. He just continues to watch Richie flirt with anything vaguely resembling a human being, Eddie _especially_ , in that dumb joking way that makes Eddie want to tear his hair out. Everything is a joke to Richie, including, apparently, Eddie’s sexuality.

But that’s not exactly fair to Richie, Eddie thinks, because Richie had been the first person Eddie had come out to and the first person to defend Eddie against any sort of bigot. _Of course_ he would go out of his way to not treat Eddie any differently than he had before, which, for Richie, meant horrendous and persistent attempts at flirting. 

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Richie is basically the best person Eddie knows. He’s fiercely loyal and he loves unconditionally. He’s Eddie’s best friend, although Eddie is almost positive he’s not Richie’s. That would be Bill. Eddie is already lower on Richie’s totem pole than he would like to be, and admitting his crush would make everything worse.

Eddie’s not lucky like Stan. He doesn’t get to have a happy ending that easily.

-

The next morning, Bill practically floats down the stairs with Eddie stomping along behind him.

“M-Merlin, it’s a beautiful day,” Bill says dreamily, eyes bright as the sky itself. 

Eddie blinks blearily into the sunlight streaming through the tower windows and frowns. “Yeah, mate. It’s grand.”

Bill stops so suddenly that Eddie almost bangs right into him. He turns, face pinched in worry. He clears his throat and, in his best approximation of a Concerned Adult voice, asks, “Eddie, are you oh-okay? I know yesterday yuh-yuh-you said you d-didn’t want to talk about ih-it, but you know I’m h-here if you need muh-me.”

Eddie feels immediately guilty. He shouldn’t begrudge Bill for being happy, and he definitely shouldn’t ruin Bill’s good mood all because of a dumb crush Eddie’s had literal years to process. He forces a smile onto his face and says, “Yeah, no. I’m fine. Seriously. Thanks, Big Bill.”

At the old nickname, Bill brightens up a bit. “J-just remember, I love you, Eddie. Y-you’re like a br-brother to me. I need you to b-be okay.” He throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and jostles him a bit until Eddie laughs.

“I know, mate, thank you,” Eddie says, and he means it. “I love you, too.”

They go down to breakfast together, Eddie feeling considerably lighter. It’s a Saturday, so Eddie isn’t too worried about not getting any sleep. He will, however, be drinking a considerable amount of coffee to keep himself awake. They walk into the Great Hall, and Eddie is immediately blinded by pink streamers and floating red hearts and--oh, fuck. So _that’s_ why Slughorn decided yesterday was the perfect day for the Amortentia.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” Eddie asks, his mood instantly ruined.

“Yep!” Bill says cheerfully, right back to his old, clueless self. With his moment of clarity clearly long gone, he makes a bee-line over to their regular spot. Eddie is relieved to see Richie there, hunched over a bowl of oatmeal, in between Stan and Ben. Bill nearly skips into place beside Stan, throwing an arm around him pressing a loud kiss to his temple. Stan, for his part, remains mostly unperturbed, but Eddie can spy the red creeping up his cheeks. Eddie takes his time, dragging slightly behind so as to take Richie in. He looks tired, eyes downcast. He is trying very hard to squish all six foot two of himself down into something smaller, nose almost dipping into his breakfast. 

Eddie slides carefully onto the bench, directly across from Richie. Beside him, Mike catches his eye and shrugs. Eddie nods minutely and steels himself, says, “Hi, Rich.”

Richie looks up, almost surprised, as if Eddie hasn’t sat across from him for nearly every meal since they were twelve. “Hey, Eds,” he replies easily, almost like he’s waking up, “What’s shakin’, bacon?”

Eddie responds by taking a pointed sip of the coffee he has just poured himself. Richie lets out a snort. This time, he does not comment about Eddie’s caffeine intake. Eddie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “Where were you after dinner? I looked everywhere for you.”

Richie waves him off, says, “Went for a walk.” 

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “Why?”

Richie lets out a nervous laugh, asks, “What are you, my babysitter?” just as Stan hisses, “Bill, I swear to Merlin, if you ask me to Madam Puddifoot's one more time, this relationship will end as soon as it began.”

Ben snorts into his coffee, and Eddie frowns at Richie, says, “I was just asking. We were worried about you.”

“No one else gave me the third degree,” Richie mumbles, shoving a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. Eddie thinks, distantly, that Richie hates oatmeal.

“Fine, Jesus Christ,” Eddie snaps, appetite promptly gone. He pushes his plate away abruptly. The clattering makes Richie wince. “Fuck you, sorry for caring.”

Mike’s hand comes down on his shoulder, an anchoring weight. Eddie takes a deep breath and manages to keep a lid on his temper, but that doesn’t stop him from glaring daggers at Richie, who shrinks back like he’s been burned. Richie opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by his owl, Zeppelin, dropping a pile of letters directly into his oatmeal before flying off. Richie promptly closes his mouth, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Aw, lookit that,” Ben teases, “Richie’s got some admirers. Which girl are you taking out for Valentine’s Day? Looks like you got your pick.”

Richie fishes the letters out of his breakfast and lets them drop onto the table in a soppy pile. “Not interested,” he mumbles, propping his chin up with a fist. He’s _pouting_ , for Merlin’s sake. Eddie wants to punch him.

“Maybe if you get laid you’ll stop being such a dick,” Eddie mutters, just loud enough so Richie can hear him, even though the thought of Richie being with literally anyone else makes Eddie want to vomit and then cry.

“Not. Interested,” Richie repeats, shooting Eddie an unimpressed look. He pushes his spoon around in his oatmeal, chin pressed into the palm of his hand. He won’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Stan, wrapped up with Bill like a goddamn pretzel, snorts and asks, “Since fucking _when_ , Richie? You’re always interested. In literally anything that blinks.”

Richie rouses himself just enough to leer, says, “Aw c’mon, Stanny, baby, you know I’ve been holding out for you.”

Bill reaches over Stan’s head and flick Richie in the ear. Eddie glowers into his coffee.

“So, Ben,” Mike says brightly, a clear diversion, “What were you and Bev thinking for Valentine’s Day?”

Eddie tunes out, because he doesn’t really care. He pokes at the eggs in front of him angrily. Across the table, Richie has retreated back into himself and is staring moodily at his orange juice. Eddie doesn’t know what crawled up Richie’s ass and died there, but he’s not about to deal with it while Richie figures it out. The Amortentia obviously fucked with him, and Eddie would be sympathetic except he’s going through the same thing and _he’s_ not acting like a gigantic asshole. 

He barely even registers when Bev sits down, until she chucks piece of bacon at his head. “Earth to Edward,” she says, looking at him like he’s got three heads.

“What?” Eddie asks, picking the bacon off his lap and placing it delicately at the edge of his plate. Richie watches him do this, snorts, and steals the bacon for himself. Eddie sends him a nasty look and moves his plate closer to him.

Bev watches them, vaguely amused. “I asked if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with us.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “As a third wheel? No thanks, I’m not that pathetic.”

“No, idiot,” Bev rolls her eyes and shoves a spoonful of scrambled eggs into her mouth, “With all of us. Double date plus you, Mike, and Rich. Just lunch at the Three Broomsticks, nothing special. Merlin know I’m low-maintenance as hell and I think Stan’ll have a conniption if Bill asks after Madam Puddifoot’s again.”

While Eddie doesn’t exactly want to be alone on Valentine’s Day, he also doesn’t want to be anywhere near _Richie_ for a variety of reasons. Still, he shrugs and says, “Yeah, alright. Guess it’s less pathetic than hiding in the Gryffindor dorms until all this lovey dovey bullshit disappears.”

“I don’t remember you being so anti-Valentine’s Day last year,” Bev laughs, “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the girl with the absolute hunk of a boyfriend,” Eddie replies dryly, pointing at Ben with his fork. Ben flushes and ducks his head. Bev responds by throwing her arms around Ben and peppering him with kisses until his entire face is as red as the decorations floating above them.

“Aw, suh-stop embarrassing B-B-Ben,” Bill says, making grabby hands at Ben’s face. “Let’s muh-meet back h-h-here at tw-twelve and h-head down t-t-together.”

Eddie chances a glance at Richie, who is already looking right back at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, before Eddie tilts his chin up in defiance and Richie looks back down at the table. Eddie downs the rest of his coffee in one impressive gulp. It’s going to be a long day.

-

Eddie wraps himself up in approximately thirty layers and his favorite scarf, grumbling under his breath the whole time. Bill has doused himself in approximately thirty gallons of cologne, singing horrible love songs and the top of his lungs. Eddie finishes up and sits down on his trunk, watches Bill prance around for exactly ten seconds before bursting out, “I’m gonna kill Richie.”

Bill pauses. “Why?”

“Because he’s been acting like a dick and I don’t know why!”  
Bill takes his time zipping up his jacket, tongue poked out, very obviously not looking at Eddie and--

“Oh my God, you totally know!”

Bill jumps about a foot in the air, eyes wide. It would be funny if Eddie wasn’t so mad. Instead of laughing, Eddie jumps off of his trunk and stalks toward Bill, jabbing a finger at his chest. Bill throws his hands up immediately, says, “I d-d-don’t know what you’re t-t-talking about.”

“Liar!” Eddie spits, spinning away dramatically. He’s being _a lot_ , okay, he knows, but it’s been a very stressful twenty-four hours and this is just the icing on the shit cake. “You know why Richie’s all bent out of shape because he trusted you and told you but he didn’t tell me!”

“Eddie, this isn’t some kind of friendship competition,” Bill protests. He grabs for Eddie’s arm but Eddie yanks it away, crosses his arms. 

“Is he mad at me?” Eddie demands, and Merlin, he feels his eyes start to prick which is just fucking fantastic. Bill looks alarmed. “Because he was fine to joke with Stanley but he iced me out almost as soon as I sat down this morning!”

Bill holds his arms out, helpless. “He’s j-just...g-going through suh-some shit.”

A thought hits Eddie like a bludger. He goes completely still, eyes widening. It’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice cold water on him and Eddie’s stuck in the moment right before the reaction hits. 

Bill frowns. “Eddie?”

“Does…” Eddie pauses, trying to figure out how to best word his question without blowing his entire fucking cover if he’s wrong, “Did...Did Stan tell you anything? About me? And did you...tell Richie?”

Bill’s frown deepens. “Eddie, w-what? No, I--” Suddenly, his eyes widen.

Eddie takes a step forward, just barely resists the urge to tackle Bill to the ground and cover his mouth and never let him up again, “No, Bill--”

“You smelled R-R-Richie!” 

Eddie collapses to the floor, a puddle of Gryffindor reds and golds and the one Ravenclaw-blue stripe sewn messily to the bottom of his scarf by Richie himself. “Shut the fuck up,” he says miserably, staring up at the stone ceiling of his dorm and willing the tower to collapse in on him, “You can’t say anything.”

And Bill, the asshole, fucking _laughs_.

“You n-n-need to talk to R-Richie.”

“No,” Eddie says immediately, and this feels annoyingly familiar to the conversation he had with Bill yesterday, “First of all, he’s being an asshole. Second of all, fuck off.”

“S-s-s-suit yourself, m-mate,” Bill says, chuckling to himself. Eddie levitates a book at his head.

-

Eddie, having the worst luck on the entire goddamn planet, ends up sandwiched between Bev and Richie at the Three Broomsticks.

He’s pretty sure it’s Bill’s fault, because Bill and Stan were right behind him and therefore they _obviously_ should have ended up on Eddie’s side of the table, but Bill led Stan around the other way and Richie slid in next to Eddie instead. Eddie is all but sitting in Bev’s lap to keep his distance. Luckily, she’s too wrapped up in Ben to notice too much.

Richie managed to charm a Firewhiskey out of the pretty young barmaid when Rosmerta wasn’t looking, and he all but chugged it as soon as he sat down. Eddie pointedly ignores him for the duration of lunch, instead talking to Stan about their latest Charms homework. Bill seems to be holding some kind of non-verbal conversation with Richie using only their eyebrows. It results in some...very interesting facial expressions.

When they’re done, Eddie is the first one out. It’s snowing, because of course it is, and he pulls his beanie down farther, shivering lightly. Richie comes up behind him and wordlessly offers his gloves. Eddie waits a beat, considers his freezing fingertips, and takes them with a terse nod. “Thanks,” he says. Richie smiles shyly. It’s a weird look on him, because Eddie doesn’t think Richie’s ever done anything shyly in his life. Eddie instantly feels disconcerted.

They walk a few feet in silence, their friends chattering loudly behind them. Richie shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches over. “Uh, about earlier,” he says, wincing a little, “I’m sorry. Didn’t get a good night’s sleep. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Eddie takes a moment to weigh his options. He can be a dick and make a huge fuss and ruin Valentine’s Day for everyone, or he can suck it up and take Richie’s gloves and apologies for the peace offerings that they are. Richie’s watching him nervously. Eddie sighs, world-weary, and says, “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, don’t do it again, but...we’re good.”

Richie smiles crookedly. It lights up his whole face. “We’re good?”

Eddie looks away and stares straight ahead. “Until the next time you fuck up, at least,” he says, off-hand, and Richie lets out a surprised laugh that halts Bill and Stan’s conversation behind them. Nosy fucks.

“Well, let’s hope that’s not for a bit, then,” Richie says, cheeks flushed with either happiness or the cold. Eddie refuses to let himself hope it’s the former.

“Let’s hope,” Eddie repeats, knocking his shoulders into Richie’s bicep because that’s as high as he can reach. Richie ducks his head, smile firmly in place, hair falling into his face.

“Honeydukes!” Bev yells, shoving past the two and dragging Ben along after her. “Onwards and upwards, lads! I’m outta sugar quills, Ben, you can get me some for V-Day.”

Eddie tips over into Richie, who catches him deftly and then leaves his arm around his shoulder comfortably. Eddie shrinks into his scarf to hide his smile and pointedly ignores the look that Bill gives him as he and Stan pass by in the exact same position. Stan leans down to whisper in Bill’s ear and they both start to giggle madly. Eddie huffs and trudges along, letting Richie drag him into the warm candy store.

“Richie!” the store clerk says, because Richie’s friends with everyone. “Eddie, hey, did you finish all those cauldron cakes already?”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?”

The clerk laughs. “You have to know that Richie buys out half our stock every few months to keep you on a steady supply of sugar.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “I did not know that, no,” he says, turning a needling look Richie’s way, eyes sparkling with hidden laughter.

Richie looks away, but Eddie can see the blush high on his cheeks. “I gotta,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand, “You get real cranky without your sugar IV and I’m just saving the poor people of Hogwarts from your inevitable wrath. It’s a service, really, don’t go thinking you’re special or anything.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Eddie says, tone teasing.

“Good, ‘cause you’re fucking lame,” Richie mutters, finally chancing a glance down at Eddie. Their eyes meet, and they gaze at each other for just a second too long to be normal. Something like hope curls in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, cautious but existing nonetheless. The store clerk glances between them, eyes raised. 

“You’re nervous,” Eddie observes, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, “Why?”

“M’not,” Richie mutters, elbowing Eddie good-naturedly. He bops Eddie on the nose with a finger and twirls away dramatically. Eddie is surprised at how much he misses the steady weight of Richie against his side. Then again, he’s really not. “You’re just looking for something that isn’t there, Eds Spageds!”

And yeah, that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Eddie’s face kind of crumbles against his own will. Richie’s already twirling into another aisle, oblivious. Stan, as if sensing Eddie’s distress, appears at his side in an instance. His fingers curl around Eddie’s elbow. “He’s just stupid,” Stan says, matter-of-factly, “You just have to give him some time to figure it out.”

“Figure _what_ out, exactly?” Eddie mutters, leaning into Stan.

Stan lets his head drop on top of Eddie’s. “How to tell you.” They stand like that for a bit, Eddie letting Stan’s words mull over in his head. 

When Eddie finally pulls away, Stan looks down at him with a gentle, knowing smile and that’s really about all Eddie can take. “I think I need some air,” Eddie says, voice sounding rushed. Stan gives his elbow a reassuring squeeze and nods. Eddie trips out the front door, the bell jingling overhead, just as Richie yells, “Stan the Man, have you seen Edward?”

“No,” Stan says, grabbing Richie and marching him in the exact opposite direction. For a moment, Eddie thinks that it’s okay that Bill is Richie’s best friend, as long as he’s got Stanley Uris.

Eddie immediately regrets his decision as he stumbles into the snow, but mum didn’t raise no quitter. Well, she tried to, but that had only made Eddie more hard-headed than he was already predispositioned to be. Whatever, fuck, it’s cold. His fingers clench into fists inside Richie’s gloves, and he shoves them in his pockets so he doesn’t have to look at them. He presses on into the little alleyway beside Honeydukes and leans against the brick wall. 

It’s hardly two seconds later when he hears Richie blunder out into streets, bell ringing loudly overhead, yelling, “Eds? Eds, where’d you go?”

The bell jingles again as Stan pops his head out, hisses, “Richie, get back inside.”

The snow crunches under Richie’s feet as he takes a few defiant steps forward, completely ignoring Stan. “Eddie!” Richie calls again, and there’s something a little helpless in his tone that makes Eddie step out of the shadows and into the street. 

Stan sees him first, because he’s always the more observant of the two, and Eddie nods at him. Stan nods back, offers a quiet smile, and goes inside. “What the fuck are you yelling about, Richard?” Eddie asks, and Richie jumps.

“Eddie!” Richie exclaims, rushing forward. He stops himself about an inch from Eddie, feet almost touching, and frowns. “Your nose is all red. You’ll catch your death. Why are you out here?”

“I needed air,” Eddie says, the excuse sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

Richie quirks an eyebrow. “You hate the cold.”

“So do you,” Eddie shoots back, “And you’re a giant baby about snow, so why are _you_ outside?”

Richie frowns. “Because you disappeared and I got worried.”

Eddie lets out a loud snort, and Richie jumps again. “Oh, so it’s cool for you to ask after where I’ve been because _you’re_ worried, but when I do it, I get snapped at?”

Richie’s frown impossibly deepens. “Eddie, I already said I was sorry--”

“I just think it’s hypocritical, is all,” Eddie snaps, pulling his scarf around himself tighter. 

Richie reaches out and then lets his hand fall, looking a little lost. They’re both in uncharted territory. Richie has never been this hesitant, this cautious, and Eddie’s never been this _mean_. Richie had apologized and Eddie had accepted, which means its well past the time to hash this out but Eddie can’t quite contain himself, so he bites out, “Why did you tell Bill why you were upset but not me?”

Something like horror crosses Richie’s face, but he recovers quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

Eddie glares a hole into Richie’s chest because he refuses to meet Richie’s eyes, on principal. He’s wearing a dumb leather jacket that’s supposed to make him look cooler but only manages to highlight how much of a fucking dork Richie is. He is woefully underdressed for the weather and Eddie shouldn’t have taken his gloves, shouldn’t be keeping him outside right now. “Fine,” Eddie says, terse. “I’m gonna go, alright? Tell the others.”

He turns to leave, but Richie grabs his arm and pulls him back around. Eddie allows himself to be spun around, looking somewhere past Richie. “Eds, c’mon. I’m sorry. Talk to me,” Richie says, _pleads_ , really, and no, no, Eddie is _not_ going to cry. 

“You were obviously mad at me, okay, but I don’t know what I did,” Eddie chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut and willing away the tears, “And, I mean, I guess you got over it, but I’d like to know what happened so I can just like, not do it again because I can’t stand when you’re upset with me--”

He’s pulled suddenly into a crushing hug, face pressed into the faded leather of Richie’s jacket, which makes everything simultaneously better and worse. It’s equal parts comforting and a horrible, horrible reminder than he can never have this. Eddie takes a deep breath, inhaling the same scent he’s smelled a thousand times, most recently in the Amortentia--the chocolate, near overwhelming after galavanting around Honeydukes, the cigarette smoke woven deep into the seams of the jacket, the wet snow melting into the earth beneath them. 

“Merlin, Eds,” Richie whispers into his hair, “M’not mad at you. Was never mad at you, love.”

Eddie forces himself to ignore the pet name so he doesn’t explode. “What happened? You can talk to me, you must know that by now.”

Richie huffs out a sad little laugh. “‘Course I know that.” He takes a deep breath and finally releases Eddie, taking a step back and shoving his hands deep into his pocket. He kicks at the snow, sending bits of it flying away. “I just...couldn’t risk it?” 

Eddie frowns. “Richie…”

“I gotta get this out, okay? Please,” Richie says, and he won’t meet Eddie’s eyes, “I couldn’t risk telling you and you hating me, alright? I mean, I know you’d never, you’re too good of a person, but Merlin, you’re the most important person in the world to me, Eddie.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, and he hates how small his voice sounds when it comes out.

Richie looks up at him, stricken. “Of _course_.” 

Eddie nods, mostly to himself, and says, “You, too. To me, I mean.”

It feels like a confession. It also seems to give Richie the courage he needs to push on, because Richie steps forward and grabs Eddie’s hand. Eddie responds by grabbing Richie’s other hand and wrapping them up in his own, rubbing the redness away with the gloves Richie himself should be wearing. Richie watches their hands for a moment, before he meets Eddie eyes and says, softly, “It was you, Eddie.”

Eddie stills, eyes slowly meeting Richie’s. “What was?”

“That stupid fuckin’ love potion. It was you. I smelled you. Like a coffee shop and some muggle antiseptic ointment, the kind you always keep in your robe pocket despite having access to actual fucking _magic_ , and I fucking shit myself over it because, okay, I’ve been in love with you for a really long time but this made it a little too _real_ for my liking, and--”

Eddie doesn’t let him finish. He drops Richie’s hands and for a moment, Richie looks paralyzed by fear. Eddie goes up on his tip toes and throws his arms around Richie’s neck, dragging him down to his level. He presses his lips against Richie’s a little too aggressively, but hey, that’s how Eddie does everything--a little too aggressively.

There’s a horrible moment where Richie doesn’t reciprocate and, despite his fairly obvious love confession, Eddie wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake. Then, Richie wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and fucking _lifts_ him off the ground, kissing back enthusiastically. Eddie makes a tiny noise of protest, which makes Richie laugh into his mouth. Someone catcalls from the street, and Eddie flips them off without ever breaking away from Richie.

“I love you too, you absolute dingbat,” Eddie murmurs, “I smelled you, too, in all your nicotine-infused glory.”

“Stop insulting me,” Richie says, voice warm, nose rubbing against Eddie’s, “You _love_ me, remember?”

“Of course I remember,” Eddie laughs, “And I question my taste every day.”

Richie sets Eddie down on the ground and leans down to press their foreheads together. “Yeah, you and about every other asshole at this school,” Richie laughs, bright and beautiful. Eddie feels like he’s floating. There’s a pause where all they can do is gaze at each other, dopey and ridiculous, until Richie asks, “You’re serious, though? Like, you’re not taking the piss, right?”

Eddie wants to laugh, but there’s something in Richie’s expression that makes him feel like he should be a little gentler. “No, you asshole,” he says softly, because he’s still got to be _himself_ , “I think you’re probably it for me.”

Richie’s answering smile in blinding, and Eddie feels warmer already just looking at it. Then Richie’s face does a weird thing, scrunching up like it does every time he’s about to ruin a nice moment with a terrible joke. Eddie braces himself just as Richie asks, “You do realize our anniversary is on Valentine’s Day, right? The literal ultimate cliche?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Gross. We’re breaking up. Come talk to me tomorrow.” With that, he spins on his heels and marches away. Behind him, he hears Richie scramble to catch up, sputtering after him. When Richie finally reaches him, he tackles Eddie into the snow, sending his hat and dignity flying. Richie kisses him before Eddie can protest. His ass is soaking wet with snow and his cheeks are frozen, but Eddie thinks he could really get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's a wrap! thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos! you guys are the most amazing ppl ever and i love each and every one of u!!!!! sorry if there are any mistakes, i'm currently hopped up on cold medicine :-)


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